


Felonies

by dreaminghigher (regencyaus)



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: 5 + 1, M/M, but still basically zero plot, it just wouldn't enddd, mostly happy feel good, some violence for plot related reasons, this was going to be 2k omg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 08:56:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13678434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/regencyaus/pseuds/dreaminghigher
Summary: Arthur is a bounty-hunter. Eames cheats in casinos. They still fall in love.





	Felonies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CoffeeWithConsequences](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeWithConsequences/gifts).



> For the lovely [coffeewithconsequences](https://coffeewithconsequences.tumblr.com/), for Eames' Stupid Cupid. 
> 
> The prompt was 'felony'. 
> 
>  
> 
> To my giftee, I loved the prompt! I had a lot of fun with it. But it's broad enough that I was taking this in wildly different directions (I have three files on my computer named coffee 1, 2 and 3) and I didn't think of this particular story I chose, with bounty-hunter Arthur and blahblahblah, until less than week before the deadline. So if it feels a little rushed that's why. Hope you still enjoy it! 
> 
> (And I may finish the other fics on my computer later on. If I do I'll mark them as a gift too :)

1. 

 

It starts like this, it's a beautiful night, he's shining with a couple dices in the- well. Not really, now that he thinks about it. It actually starts like this:

It's just him and Ms. Turner now. The whole table is tuned in to them, the small crowd they've managed to gather enticed into their game. He makes a show of tapping his fingers against his cards on the table, waiting for her move. Someone shouts 'he's bluffing! Raise him!', and he shakes his head. "Don't listen to them, sweetheart. You're too gorgeous for their silly games."

She laughs, amicably enough.

"Oh Eames, what do I do with you?" She asks, looking between him and her cards, faint blush in her cheeks. 

"You raise him, that's what you do. He's _bluffing_ ," her friend says, too drunk for his own sake. Ms. Turner turns considering, still unsure. Eames leans back in his chair, elegant sprawl carefully perfected over the years. He signals a passing waiter for another whiskey and waits. 

"You know what, you're right. Let's see what you got," she says, paying his chips and laying another 500 on the table.

Sometimes, it's way too easy.

He feigns doubt, looking carefully at his cards and thanking the waiter when his whiskey arrives.

"You're gonna raise, hmm. Feeling confident, aren't we?" He looks up at her, ready to build up the suspense and- and then notices the security guard, just off to her left. Not that close yet, but closer than where he was supposed to be, and paying a particular amount of attention to their table.

Fuck.

He had this one down so  _perfectly_.

He usually had more time before it started drawing attention. He holds back a sigh.

"You win this one poppet, I'm not gonna take the risk. I fold."

She squees with delight and he smiles, but he's barely paying attention to the game anymore. He discreetly nods Yusuf, the dealer he's working with, towards the guard and they track him until Eames is sure they're out of the radar. He nurses his whiskey for a few more rounds and makes his excuses, talking about a turning tide and leaving while you're still ahead. They mock, of course, cries of 'are you getring scared?', passed in friendly amusement but he takes it in good faith and gathers his winnings for the night, hiding Yusuf's fee just out of sight. They can't really acknowledge each other right now, but Eames likes working with Yusuf when he can. He's discreet, and reliable enough. Despite the ending, there's a shared sense of euphoria from getting away with it.

Just before he leaves Ms. Tuner asks, "So, same time tomorrow?" And Eames smiles and says confidently "Of course," throws in a smirk for good measure, knowing he never plans to step into this particular casino again.

Overall, still a productive night, he thinks, and cashes in his chips.

He pauses just outside, planning how he's gonna leave. He feels his pocket for the wallets there, but the first one didn't have a valet ticket, he remembers. The second one did, but it's a couple from the blackjack table, they may be leaving soon and would notice before he's far enough away.

The valet is already looking at him. Eames smiles and pretends to be checking his pockets, like he's looking for something.

Third wallet is a gamble. He hadn't looked inside yet. But it was from a posh guy in the above $10k table, he's definitely gonna have a car parked. And he was riding high, may take a while to notice. Eames pulls out that one, nods to the valet and, voilà, takes out a ticket. An Audi. Eh, not that bad. When the car comes around he makes sure to tip a 100, because really, it's not the valet's fault for the screaming that he'll be subjected to when someone figures out what happened. 

Just before Eames drives away, he feels a prickling in the back of his neck, the heavy weight of eyes on him. He immediately looks up, trying to find the source, but it's busy outside the casino and he can't quite make who until- there, he thinks, a guy, still inside, looking at him through the large glass doors of the casino's foyer. For a brief second Eames feels completely  _exposed_ , feels like the guy saw right through him and is gonna have him arrested before Eames so much as takes his next breath. But- no, he thinks, as the guy blinks and looks away. Just his paranoia. Eames keeps staring, decides on a whim to make the guy look at him again. When he does Eames sends him a little wave, enjoys the curious tilt of his face and narrowing of his eyes before driving off.

He sells the car to a contact that can use the pieces and is out of town before surise. 

2.

But the real first time, though, he's been having a lot of fun in the craps table, nice little stacks of chips to attest to it and not even a loaded dice involved, thank you very much, when he first notices this guy. Vaguely familiar, Eames thinks, and fucking gorgeous, leaning casually against a slots machine. Tracing Eames' every move with amused eyes. The guy is one of those posh assholes, Eames is sure, three-piece suit, hair gelled perfectly into obedience but he's so beautiful, tempting little thing, and Eames  _is_  solely tempted. 

Eames picks up the dices and pauses. Looks back at the guy. "Blow my dice for me, darling," he says, to the shock of the people around the table, taking a different kind of gamble this time.

The guy seems unimpressed. But after a moment he steps back from the machine, brushes off invisible dust from his suit, and comes over to Eames' table. Eames holds out the hand with the dices, a test maybe, or a challenge. The guy raises an eyebrow and looks at him. And, still holding eye contact, he encircles Eames' hand with his own, leans down and blows, the air tingling Eames' fingers, his lips brushing against Eames' skin. Eames wants to cage him in against the table and find out how good those lips taste against his own.

He throws the dice and loses, but he thinks he may be wining something much better.

"What's your name, dear?"

The guy grins, like maybe Eames should have started with that, but he answers. "I'm Arthur."

"Well Arthur, can I buy you a drink?"

The guys seems to think about this for a moment. "Sure. Make that a virgin martini."

"A virgin martini is just an olive, dear. And a pretty glass to hold. You're not having alcohol?"

"I like olives and pretty glasses to hold," Arthur answers, evasive, and leans against the table in front of him to look at the game.

Eames watches him, not quite masking his curiosity, and tells a passing waiter his order of "something non-alcoholic for my friend over here in a martini glass. Maybe a single olive, who knows." Arthur rolls his eyes, but he's amused.

"Are you any good?"

Eames looks back at it, picks up a chip.

"I'm very good."

Arthur keeps looking at him like he's trying to have Eames figured out. Keep doing it, Eames thinks, and doesn't let Arthur attention disperse from him at any point in the night. He decides he likes the weight of Arthur's eyes on him. And, to be fair, no one else here would be quite worth Arthur's attention anyway.

The dices are _working_ with him. At some point he cashes in 10 grand and is celebrating and Arthur is smiling happily at him.

"What would you have me do with this money, sweetheart?"

"Buy a suit," Arthur answers right away.

"With the whole money?"

"Yep."

"And a posh drink, with or without the alcohol, to hold?"

"Absolutely."

"That's quite a bit for a suit and a drink."

"It's an investment. In your reputation."

Eames looks back at him. "That I can see. What was in the drink in the end?" Eames asks, nodding to it.

"Water. And an olive, of course." Arthur says, and twirls it around his glass a little.

"Well, you look wonderful holding it, dear, though you do look terribly posh."

"Thanks." Arthur grins. "That shirt is awful, by the way. No one should wear those many conflicting colors at once." Eames turns to him with an easy smile.

"Hmmm, that so sweetheart? Wanna take it off of me then?"

It's a terrible line. Predictable, so very cliché. Which is why he's more surprise than anyone when it works.

"Sure," Arthur says. "I have a room upstairs."

They make it into one of the elevators before Eames is pushing him up against a wall, loving the way he melts, molding his body into Eames. Eames kisses him and Arthur lets out a small gasp, getting both hands into Eames' hair and pulling just enough to hurt.

They stumble out into the hallway on Arthur's floor, kissing and laughing while Arthur looks for his key and it's all very fun and games until they make it to Arthur's room and Arthur immediately immobilizes Eames, pushing him face first against the door and twisting his wrist in an uncomfortable position behind his back.

And then he starts rattling off Eames' rights.

Jesus.

"What the fuck? What the fuck are you, sweetheart?"

"I'm a Bail Enforcement Agent."

"...the fuck?"

"Bounty hunter. You're wanted for a series of crimes. Most recently fraud, larceny, and stealing a car in a casino in California. Anything to add to that?"

Eames' head is pounding. "Are we in a fucking western? Are bounty hunters even legal?"

"In the US yeah, in quite a few states. I'm licensed in Nevada."

He seems to be waiting for something. When Eames doesn't say anything else he uses the hand that isn't busy holding Eames to call- someone about this, god knows who, and when he's done he reaches into a bag near the door for what Eames presumes- yep, those are handcuffs. Being put on him, and lovked tight. Fuck, he needs to buy his time.

"Is that always your modus operandi, pet? Making out with people into submission to arrest them? I can't say it's not effective but it's terribly offensive, I thought we had something special. Also, it does sound like whoring yourself out a little, but hey, no judgment from me."

Arthur buys it. Oh thank god.

"What? I don't fucking kiss everyone I'm trying to arrest, fuck you. You were the one who was fucking drooling, 'blow my dice, darling', what the hell kind of line is that anyway?-"

Eames has gotten the lock pick he keeps in his pocket and is very slowly working in one of the hands. He doesn't get how Arthur is missing this. But boy, Arthur is busy glaring at him and Eames makes sure to keep his attention there. 

"Oh please, you were all over me. You can't fake the hard-on you had against me two minutes ago sweetheart." 

Arthur sputters indignantly at him.

"Jesus christ, you're such a dick- is that a hair clip?"

It's not, Eames is more dignified than that. He has an actual lockpick kit, thank you very much. But, he's almost done now. If he can just distract Arthur a few extra seconds, it could work anyway.-

"It's not, I'm more dignified than that. I can't believe after all this time, this is how I'm getting arrested. I could take anything from fifteen years to life dear. I haven't hurt anyone; do you really think I deserve that?" Eames dramatizes, and uses the space Arthur didn't notice he's given him to spin around, so his back is against the door. "If my life is really gonna be over now and this is my last night of freedom don't you wanna give me something to remember? During all those long years that I'll be thinking of this day and of my missed chance-"

He kisses Arthur. Arthur lets him for a second but soon pulls away, asks, "what are you-" voice barely above a whisper but Eames kisses him again, filthy, and that somehow works. Arthur lets out a small gasp and kisses him back, lets it build up, kissing Eames' moans away. Arthur pushes him up against the wall, and Eames lets him, loving how Arthur feels pressed up against him. Eames knocks his head back against the wall and Arthur rubs his cheek against Eames, letting his fingers trail lightly against Eames chest. And that really, really works for Eames, really, except he has a goal here and right now his hands are trapped with little movement, so he pushes back from the wall, as gracefully as someone who's currently handcuffed can, and walks Arthur backwards the short steps until the bed.

"What are you-" Arthur starts, and his knees hit the back of the bed. He seems to sit down more out of instinct than anything and Eames climbs up, very ungracefully, as he still can't use his hands to steady himself because, yes, they're handcuffed, and he's frustrated with not quite getting it right until, there, he's straddling Arthur's hips, pressed tight against him and that's- _Yeah_ , he breathes out. Yeah, that's good. He kisses Arthur's neck and rocks forward a little.

"Jesus, Eames," Arthur moans, and settles his hands in Eames' hips.

They get a hot rhythm going, Eames thrusting against him and Arthur pulling him by the hips, setting the pace. Eames is sucking a very nice hickey into Arthur's neck and Arthur keeps getting distracted, so Eames brings up a hand to hold him in place, just where Eames wants him while he breathes hotly against Arthur's neck and Arthur moans loud, like he just couldn't hold it in anymore and then he freezes.

"...wait. Why is your hand-"

They both turn to look at it, blinking, dispersing the moment away.

"Dammit, Eames," Arthur says, and they're off, Eames using his position above Arthur as leverage to pin Arthur to the bed and trying to use on him the handcuffs he just recently freed himself from. Arthur tries to throw him off, pushing up against him, so Eames punches his stomach, feeling very sorry about that, and does it again, and a third time, harder. Arthur coughs, trying to curse, and surges up so Eames headbutts into him in a way that makes him see stars, but he thinks it's worse for Arthur, who seems dizzy to the point of nauseous. Arthur gets a leg up and kicks him in the stomach, knocking Eames' breath out, but Eames is already using the momentum to lock Arthur's wrists to the headboard.

"I'm so sorry about this, dear. To be fair, you are trying to arrest me."

Arthur flips him off, but he seems close to throwing up. 

"Do you want me to bring you a bucket or something? Oh god. I am sorry. I'll let the reception know they should check on you once I'm down stairs, okay? You'll be fine. You can also scream, I mean, but that just means I may get arrested and you won't even get your share of the bounty. Think about it. What would be the point, hmm? I wouldn't do that." Arthur glares. Eames shrugs a little. "Again, I am sorry about this. Try not to leave with such a bad impression of me, okay? If we meet again I promise to make it up to you. Good luck."

Arthur sighs. But he waits until Eames is on the second roll of stairs to scream. Which is fair enough, Eames supposes, and quite enough time for him to work with, as Arthur must have known. Eames smirks, and finds himself strangely hoping this won't be the last he hears of him.

It's not.

 

3. 

   


"Darling, we gotta stop meeting like this," Eames says, the next time Arthur catches up to him, this time in a casino in a smaller city in the Netherlands. "Not that I didn't miss you terribly, mind you."

Arthur looks like he's resisting rolling his eyes, but just barely. Eames grins. He watches Arthur take a look around the table, curious, before turning back at him. 

"You're a dealer?" Arthur asks, a little incredulous. Eames doesn't think 'obnoxiously pointing out the obvious' would look good on anyone else.

"I am. Demand can be a bit seasonal, mind you, but in these vacation months casinos usually hire extra hands for temporary contract."

Arthur looks around. "In the Netherlands, though? Do you even speak Dutch?"

"I've been learning all kinds of things these days, haven't I?" He winks at the 50-year-old gentleman in his right. "What was that word you were teaching me again, Mr. Van Dijk? Lekker, isn't it?" He asks, with his best flirtatious smile at the man. Arthur glares. Eames need to consciously stop himself from preening.

"Call me Markus," the guy says, and leers a little, but Eames is already bored. He has little interest in older men viciously relieving their youth through him. Also, messing with Arthur is much more of a delight.

"Je bent lekker, lieveling," he tells Arthur, lowering his eyelashes.

Arthur flushes a little, but he doesn't quite stop glaring. Eames is just a tiny bit amused.

"You're fine, then, dear?" Eames asks.

"Yes." Arthur says, and then. "Someone paid my hospital bill."

"Nice of them."

"I wouldn't call it  _quite_  that. I didn't stay long. I didn't need a hospital either, but the reception was convinced I did."

Eames shrugs. "Better safe than sorry. And well, you do look lovely."

"For a dealer, you're awfully friendly," Arthur tells him. Eames sighs.

"I work for tips. Salary can be shit, but tips can almost double it."

Someone from his table finally has enough and clears their throat. Eames snaps out of it.

"Right, I've got work to do. The buy in for the table is €1.000, are you joining?"

"Sure," Arthur says, and lays in his chips. Eames is amazed. 

As it turns out, Arthur is good at poker. He gives little away and can read people, knows when they're bluffing more often than not. And he's very careful, but that seems to work to his advantage rather than give him away. And, amazingly enough, he's having a lot of fun. He looks particularly happy every time he gets to make money off of Markus and doesn't even pretend that's not his goal there. Eames needs to hold in a smile watching Arthur wipe the floor with him.

When his time is up he leaves the table, and so does Arthur, taking his winnings for the night and following him. Eames is fired, of course, they're terminating his contract over inappropriate behavior with a client that made other players fear a preference. And for using the word shit. Eames saw that coming a mile away and takes it in stride, trying to covertly steer Arthur into the restaurant part of the building. He's in a perfectly good mood, which, of course, means that Arthur is instantaneously suspicious.

"Was that part of the plan? Getting your contract terminated?"

"Uh, no," Eames says, holding the door open for him. "But I saw it coming, so I'm not upset. Wanna get something to eat? The restaurant is right over there." So maybe he's bad at 'covertly'. Sue him.

"But... what's the scheme then?" Arthur asks, confused. He doesn't seem to care one way or another where they're going and Eames leads on. But once they're inside the restaurant he seems to catch his surroundings and lowers his voice. "You were stealing chips on the side, then?" He asks, barely above a whisper. 

"Nope." He sits down, gestures for Arthur to do the same. "The fish here is great, you should try it."

Arthur keeps standing. "You're joking." Eames gestures for him to sit again, and when he finally does Eames crosses his hands over the table.

"I did my research this time, dear." He says, equally low. "You can cross state borders after a fugitive, but you have zero jurisdiction to arrest me outside of the country. Out of the US if you're seen using force against a civilian or keeping one captive, even a convicted one at that, you can still be prosecuted. Your license as a bounty hunter from Nevada is certainly not gonna help you here."

"I know that," Arthur says, offended. "I could still tip off the police about you." Eames shrugs.

"Sure. I'm not wanted by any international organizations, though, nor by the local police enforcement. My name is not on any lists in the Interpol, for example. That's reserved for drug lords and serial killers, you know, people higher up in the crime hierarchy. I barely compare. If you wanted me arrested it'd be a long and bureaucratic process to have me extradited and judged in America, and it could take months."

"You're still here on a fake passport though, that  _is_  a crime for the local government. It wouldn't take long at all to have someone extradi-" Arthur starts hissing but pauses when the waiter comes around their table. Eames says his order, and orders the fish for Arthur because 'seriously, give it a chance, you'll love it' and asks about the wine selection they have.

"Just water for me," Arthur interrupts, "I don't drink on the job."

"Hate to break this to you, dear, but you won't be finishing your job tonight."

Arthur seems a mixture between frustrated and resigned, like he's realizing for the first time how true it is. He sighs, and chooses something from the wine menu himself.

"I'm not here on a fake passport, actually." Eames says, once the waiter is out of range. "I'm undutifully accused of a series of crimes on a fake passaport, but my real one is clean."

"But..." Arthur starts, not sure of himself anymore, "you're still working illegally in the Netherlands, right? You're not dutch."

That surprises Eames more than anything. "...seriously? I'm British. Didn't you notice? I can migrate and work legally anywhere inside the European Union. Well. For now, anyway, but I won't bore you with a rant on politics in my country."

"You must have some kind of scheme, though," Arthur says, but he's leaning back against his chair, settled in for the night. Like he gave up on having Eames arrested right now, and just wants to  _prove him_ _wrong_  anyway.Eames is happy to let him try.

"What kind of scheme dear?"

"You know." Arthur says, gesturing broadly. "Those where someone poses as a regular player but has a deal with the dealer to get the right cards and all, and at the end you split the money."

"Darling, that's outrageous. I have never done something like that in my life," by which he means he's done that more times than he can count. And then he says, more truthfully, "I don't have that kind of contact here. I have a whole web of people I can get in touch with in the US, but I wouldn't do it in a country I don't know. Wouldn't risk approaching the wrong person and getting in trouble."

"So you're really..?"

"Having a perfectly legal vacation in the Netherlands and making some extra money in tips? Yes. And it'd be extremally illegal of _you_  to try and arrest me. Because you have nothing concrete right now and because your license doesn't authorize you to do this here. So really darling, just sit back and enjoy your meal. It's on me."

He's no sure exactly what he's expecting, but it's still such a delight when Arthur plans to do just that.

"I'm sorry. About punching you last time. And that headbutt," Eames says for good measure.

"Yes, you've mentioned." Eames looks away. Arthur sighs. "If you're buying me an expensive meal to make it up for it, it better be good."

Eames smiles at that.

And then... there's the silence.

He doesn't know why he didn't anticipate this, but what are they actually supposed to talk about? It's weird that he's just now realizing how little they realize just how little they know about each other. And how they don't quite know where they stand if they're going to be civil to each other for the next hour or so.

Eames is about to suggest they give up and just make out some more and just not bother with talking, that seemed to work fine last time, when Arthur clears his throat and looks at him.

"You can bore me with politics from your country. If you want to, I mean, I know enough to understand."

And Eames smiles wide, and he's off. "Oh  _god_ , so, David Cameron, right? Complete douchebag, who maybe-probably-seriously-it's-a-real-possibility fucked a pig. Wait, do you know about that? I'll tell you in a minute. So Cameron, right, and you have no idea what he was actually trying to do with Brexit, Arthur, it was this fucking power play that he was sure would be voted down but would get the leverage he was going for and oh, hey, by the way, have you actually been to the Netherlands before?"

"….......how was this by the way-"

Eames waves it off. "I'm here for the next couple of weeks, if you have time we could make the trip to Amsterdam. Or any other cities nearby you want to, to be honest, Rotterdam has a cool nightlife, and the Magritte museum in Brussels is surreal. We can take the weekend and do the tourist stuff. And god I am a tourist myself when the time calls for it, but how much I hate tourists, Arthur, you have no idea, this one time..."

Arthur is smiling beautifully all through the night. Yeah, they may be alright, he thinks.

(They make it to both Brussels and Amsterdam, doing the most turisty things possible  

Arthur makes the first move, actually, in a park in Brussels, reaching up and kissing him, both hands in his hair, and pulling him by the hand into his hotel room. And in a few morning-afters Arthur is still there, ready for the next adventure, but on the one where he isn't, Eames is not particularly surprised.)

"How did someone like you ended up as a bounty hunter?" Eames asks, somewhere in Antwerpen. Arthur doesn't look up from the tattoo he's tracing with his fingers.

"Um, to do the right thing, I suppose. Help protect people." Eames hums.

"You could be a cop for that. You'd probably do well with the training and the discipline."

"Being a bounty hunter is something I'm good at, though." 

Eames needs to pause at that. He looks very pointedly at himself. Then at the bed they are currently in. Then generally at the hotel room where he's very much not arrested in. Then back at Arthur and raises an eyebrow.

"Shut up." Arthur says, huffing. "I mean it, I'm good at it, current record notwithstanding. The weeks of research, getting in touch with people from all across the country to get a trail to follow, triangulating a location from network providers and internet access and phone's GPS, I can do that fucking well. And then the chase, seeing all my research come together, it's very rewarding. It's something I have the patience for, and that I enjoy doing."

"You're just arresting people, though. Putting them in jail.  Is that really rewarding?"

"I- Eames, I have a duty to protect people."

"And that's admirable, but you're doing so by believing blindly who they tell you is good or bad, like every crime is perfectly black and white. Don't you think you may have ever gone after someone who was innocent? Or someone who got caught up in the wrong thing trying to help those they care about, Arthur. You have no idea what that's like."

It's the wrong thing to say, and Eames knows it right away.

"I don't know what it's like to do the bad thing because of the context or I don't know what it's like to care?"

"Arthur-"

"Nevermind. I'm not a monster Eames, jesus. Are you really gonna blame the fact that the judiciary system is flawed on me? What would you even know about that? You're just stealing things. How is that more righteous than helping others?" 

"It's not, but it's certainly more fun."

"Well, it's certainly easy for you to say."

"I'm just saying, you're too uptight about this. Following every law and regulation like they're religion, dear. You wouldn't know what it's like to do something stupid or reckless for fun, or for someone you care about."

"You wouldn't know what it's like to do the right thing when it's  _boring_ , even for someone you care about."

Eames sighs and puts his hands up, pacifying. "Hey, this doesn't have to be a fight okay? You chose to turn off your morals for a few days of down time with me and I appreciate it. This doesn't have to end just yet."

"No," Arthur says, pensive, "not just yet."

 

4.

Which of course means that the next time, though. The next time Arthur shows up Eames is quite busy.

"Not now darling, I really don't have the time," he says, not looking up from the headlock he finds himself in in while still keeping his gun aimed at the other guy in the room.

"What the fuck did you get yourself into?"

Arthur seems out of breath, like he run all the way here. But boo hoo for him, he didn't quite make it in time. Eames has had quite a bit of a scuffle, at least one eye should blacken later and right now, well- He keeps the arm around his throat from cutting off his air, just  _barely_ , and tightens his hold on his gun and pointedly doesn't look at Arthur.

That is, of course, until Arthur makes a move to  _come in_.

" _Dearest_ , you may not have noticed but these two gentlemen trying to kill me are, in fact, trying to kill me. And armed. And inclined to shoot. Go find something else to keep you entertained today."

One of the men scoffs, but then turns a considering gaze at Arthur and fuck. Fuck fuck fuck, that's exactly what Eames was trying to avoid. Of all possible moments- 

"Arthur go the fuck away."

"What's going on here?"

Eames has the mental image of face palming into the gun he's currently holding. "Really not the time to chat," but just as he says this he notices that Arthur  _wasn't asking_ _him_. The two men politely threatening his person are absolutely amused, like they've noticed how fucking compromised Eames is when it comes to this and will have some fun.

Fuck.

If they don't kill Arthur Eames is gonna  _kill him himself_. And then put him in a little box where no harm can ever get to him ever. Fuck.

"We're just telling him that it's not nice to take things that aren't his," the bald guy keeping him a headlock says and, of course, points his gun at Arthur. "Drop the gun, Eames, or I find out how many holes I can put in him before he doesn't get up anymore."

"Your friend here is still gonna be dead if you try-"

" _Now_ , Eames."

"Alright! Alright. I'm putting it down." He does it as slowly as he can, giving Arthur just enough time to- Jesus Christ, why won't he just  _leave_.

The other guy, awful spider tattoo on his neck, pulls out a gun now that he's out of Eames' line of fire, and also points it at Arthur. "Come here, sweetheart."

Arthur does, walking towards him slowly with his head down. Bald guy smirks. "Imagine the fun we're gonna have with him," he says, looking away from Arthur to leer at Eames and apparently that's all Arthur needs.

He twists tattoo guy's wrist until he drops the gun and uses the wrist to pull the guy in front of him, like a human shield from the one holding Eames. It won't be enough, Eames thinks, seeing where the gun fell to the floor, if Arthur can't reach it he has no leverage to work with, and in the split second he thinks this bald one notices the same and starts pointing his gun back on Eames and all Eames can do is think 'goodbye world', 'fuck there's still so much I wanted to do', and 'I hope Arthur makes it out, god, I really do'.

And then there's a gunshot. Eames freezes but it's  _Arthur._ Who, apparently, had a _Glock_  on a shoulder holster beneath his jacket, and Jesus Christ Eames is shaking. Bald guy got hit on the shoulder and is down, and then Arthur is knocking out the other one by hitting the blunt part of the gun to his head.

They both turn to look at each other, high on adrenaline. An awful noise from the guy on Eames feet snaps them out of it.

"God, I could've hit you," Arthur says, shaking a little himself. "I wasn't even thinking."

"I'm fine. I'm fine, jesus, Arthur."

"Check him," Arthur points to the guy who was shot, leaning down to check the one closer to him.

Bullet went straight through, Eames thinks, but he was  _shot_ , there's not anything around it. He must be in a great deal of pain, the noises he keeps making turn Eames' stomach. But it's not somewhere more vulnerable and if he gets medical attention he can be fine. Eames pulls out his jacket and uses it to put pressure and try to contain the bleeding.

"Do you always carry a gun?" Eames asks, shocked beyond belief.

"Not always. I brought one today because I thought you may be in trouble."

Eames gets a curious at that.

"Why?"

"Well," Arthur starts, "This Kenyan guy called me, actually. Said he'd heard that something you did could be coming back to bite you. He hasn't been able to get in touch with you to warn you, and decided to call me. Apparently I always know how to find you. It was so weird, I never heard a person who was so clearly guilty of  _something_  being blasé about calling a law enforcement agent."

Oh Yusuf, Eames thinks. Owe you this one. "He may have heard something about you from me," Eames says. "That's why he wasn't so worried. He knew you'd help."

"You're lucky I was near enough, though. If I didn't get here in time you'd be dead."

"I had this under control."

Arthur snorts. "Sure you did."

"Hey, I'm serious. I would have been fine." 

Arthur smiles a little, indulgent. Eames fights a losing battle with himself. Unsurprisingly, he loses.

"Arthur, you need to call an ambulance."

"What?" Arthur says, apparently satisfied with the vital signs from the other guy and putting his gun away.  "Oh. We can get out of here and call from the road on the way out of the city, that should give it enough time."

Eames doesn't know how to say this. "Arthur- he's losing blood, you need to keep pressure on the wound. You need to stay."

"Wha... He was going to kill you."

"I know."

"He may still do that once he's out of the hospital."

"I know."

"And if I say it's a gunshot wound the police will come along. Are you really gonna risk it just to protect him?"

"You didn't do anything wrong, Arthur, it was self-defense. You'll be fine."

"I know," Arthur says, frustrated. " _You_  may be caught by the police."

Eames is still shaking, high on adrenaline and all the fear cruising through his body. He tries to get his thoughts in order. "I'll leave right away; the police won't get to me. The guy that called you has some contacts in the area, he may help. If I'm caught anyway, then- well. I won't get caught."

"Are you really willing to risk getting caught by the police for this guy? He was going to kill you. He was going to torture you for information and kill you, Eames, not to mention what he was going to do to me just for getting caught up, I don't understand why you'd risk your freedom for him-" 

Eames wants to laugh because take his freedom away was exactly what Arthur had been trying to do for months and here where Eames is literally doing the right fucking thing Arthur suddenly  _cares_ , jesus. But Eames is still shaking and when he heard the gun shot there was this whole second when he thought Arthur had been the one hit and it turns out he wouldn't be okay with that and he's still so fucking- "Arthur, have you ever killed someone?" He starts, blunt. "Barely even fired that gun, huh. Was that the first time you hit someone? Just, you don't want to live with yourself if something worse happens, when you had the means to help. Just call an ambulance, okay? I have to go."

Arthur does what he's told, but he's incredulous. He doesn't get it. Eames wouldn't be able to explain it either.

"Good luck," Arthur says at last.

"You too darling. See you around."

(He does escape the police, thank god. He hears that Arthur did, too, the legal way, cleared as self-defense. He doesn't hear what happened to the guy shot, though. But Arthur would know, he figures he can ask Arthur the next time he sees him. And by now it's just been often enough that he knows there will be a next time. He drives fast, and tries not to think about a lot of things.)  

 

5. 

 

Next time Arthur catches up to him Eames is hungry and a little sleep deprived and Arthur is a bit of a sight for sore eyes.

"...what kind of scheme are you running out of a 24/07 diner?"

Eames is too tired to startle. He doesn't stop looking at the menu in the wall for long either, but he does raise an eyebrow. "None? I was actually hoping to get something to eat, I'm starving." The chicken burger is 4.95, but hey, two for 7.95, perfect, he thinks, approaching the counter. He could eat two whole burgers right now.  Unless, wait- He turns towards Arthur. "Do you want anything?"

Arthur seems confused.

"Wha... why did you lead me here then?"

"I didn't? I just got here. I've been road tripping for the past 12 days. I was gonna leave you a trail to follow once I crossed the state border and settled into the-"

"Into the Casablanca Resort and Casino, yes, I know." Eames is absolutely surprised. Arthur rolls his eyes. "Someone's been tampering with the security cameras of the resort. Sounds right up your alley, you were negotiating with an inside man for this job, in time for the reopening of the casino in the 10th. But some personnel from the security team caught the inconsistencies on Friday and you're not even in town yet. That's how I got wind of it. You may want to double check who you choose to work with."

Eames blinks at him. Jesus, he forgets the guy actually _is_  a bounty-hunter, terrible track record with him aside. He smiles, amused in spite of himself, and goes back to the waiter to finish his order.

He gestures Arthur to one of tables and sits across him. "Well, you surely have a few tricks up your sleeve."

"You led me here though," Arthur insists, looking wonderfully confused. "I knew you'd be in Casablanca next week but I didn't know if were coming from Utah or Arizona, wasn't even sure you'd be coming by car, to be honest. I didn't happen upon this city at all until you got a hotel room in in the credit card I was tracking." Eames' eyebrows slowly climb up to his hairline.

"You thought I'd gotten a hotel room you would know of and... came straight away?"

Arthur blushes very nicely.

"Darling, did you miss me so much?"

"Shut up. You're not in any of the security footage from the hotel, but you had a reservation for a whole week. I thought you might get here a little later then and either get rid of your current car in the junkyard, or…" He makes a gesture to encompass their surroundings.

"...or stop by the 24/07 diner in the way into town. So you've been keeping track of both." Arthur nods. "Ok, I'm getting predictable. I admit. You know me too well, darling." And then he starts, more carefully. "I didn't get the hotel room though."

"Of course you did. That's a very you thing to do." Arthur says, frowning slightly.

"I'm taking offence, pumpkin. I wouldn't be so crass. If I was trying to seduce you there would be a lot more romance involved."

"You  _have_ been trying, and there really hasn't."

Eames grins.

"Brussels was romantic."

"Brussels was fun. But I was pretty much a sure thing anyway, you weren't striving to  _woo_  me away."

"Fair enough," Eames concedes, fascinated beyond end that that's something Arthur would actually want him to do, entertains himself with a fantasy of what wooing Arthur would look like, what Arthur would be like once properly wooed. That Arthur would even want that is equal parts amusing and fascinating. "Still didn't get the hotel room."

"It has to be you," Arthur frowns. "It was on the Amex I've been tracking... since Chicago... Oh, fuck."

"Darling," Eames says, delighted, "did you mix up your bounties?"

"Fuck." Arthur is wonderfully embarrassed.

"I mean," Eames says, "I knew, realistically speaking, that you had other bounties."

"...other bounties?"

"If you were depending on bringing me in to pay your bills you'd have gone bankrupt by now."

"Shut up," Arthur says, more resigned this time.

"But seeing something from your other bounties is all kinds of exciting. The guy who's in the hotel is your it then, right? And he's close to the Casablanca, but he's spending a whole week in a smaller town along the way. He's probably here for the same reason, waiting for-"

"The reopening of the casino in the 10th." Arthur completes, and he looks incredulous with himself for missing this. Eames looks wistfully at the burgers the waiter is bringing him.

"I'm so hungry." He's close to whining. "Seriously, just let me finish this and I can get my things from the car, pinky promise."

"What?" Arthur asks, snapped out of the guilt loop he was certainly in. "What the fuck? Eames, you're not coming for this. Stay away."

Eames rolls his eyes. "Yes, that will definitely happen."

"Eames, jesus. We're in Nevada, the only protection here is for people licensed as bounty-hunters, which you're not. If you're seen bringing in a fugitive, even one that has a bounty as a wanted criminal, you can still be charged with kidnapping."

Eames gives him a cheeky grin. "Wow. Imagine what it feels like to be wanted for a felony. That would really change things for me." Arthur glares.

"Eames."

"Dearest?"

" _Eames_."

"Arthur, let me do this." Eames says, and knows what he's saying instead. He's saying I wish we had just a little more time. He's saying I wish what you did wasn't so stupidly dangerous, and what I do is too but we had a close call last time and I spend a month reevaluating my life through the lens of 'I'm not quite as alone anymore' and 'this is a fucking liability' and 'it's also not something I can outrun if I just drive fast enough, because it's not something I'm willing to leave behind'. He's saying you're perfectly capable to get this done, but still. I don't wanna let you do it alone.

Arthur breaks eye contact first, disarming, and makes himself more comfortable in his side of the booth.

"He's staying here the week. I don't have to go anywhere right now."

Eames takes that for the concession it is. He pushes one of the burgers across the table and Arthur digs in, happy enough for the break and smiles, like there's nowhere else in the world he'd rather be. Eames feels his heart tight with something he doesn't quite want to name. Not just yet.

+1

"Listen, dear, you should focus your attention elsewhere. It'd make both of our lives a lot more interesting, hmm? Sure, you're a bounty hunter. But there are so many more bounties to be hunted? This is just boring. I'm barely a criminal."

Arthur sighs, like coming home to find Eames has broken in and is going through his files on him happens every day. He locks de door behind him and puts his keys away. " _Yes_ , you're a criminal, Eames. You've committed multiple felonies."

"Yeah, but nothing _serious_."

"A felony is literally a crime that is serious. It's on the wikipedia page. Under 'felony' it says ' felony means a serious crime', and you've committed multiple of those.  _Burglary_ ," he says, pointedly, gesturing around, "larceny, various forms of fraud, perjury, assault of an officer-"

"That was  _one_  time. And to be fair, he _was_  trying to arrest me. That was practically self-defense. And he's fine! I just knocked him out a little, he made a swift recovery."

"Yes, I know, you sent flowers to 'his' hospital room. And a card that said: I'm no organ donor, but I'd be happy to give you my heart."

"That's just romantic-"

"The inside of the card said: or let you use my penis, call me either way, without a number, of course, and a crude little drawing of a dick. It's just so bad that I had to throw it away." Arthur is lying through his teeth, the card is in a drawer in his wardrobe in the bedroom. Eames gives him a look that says 'I know your secret, dear.' Arthur gives him back a look that says 'you're such a creeper, stop going through my stuff oh my god and also I have no idea what you're talking about at all, so.' Eames laughs. Arthur smiles, and clears his throat. " _Anyway._  The whole thing almost got you caught, again, and raised another thousand to your bounty. And then there was obstruction of justice, vandalism on federal property-"

"You have to admit that one was pretty funny."

"If you're 12- Illegal possession of a firearm, grand theft auto, tax evasion-"

"Ok, that's just boring. No one actually gets arrested for tax evasion." Arthur is unimpressed. "Ok, no one gets haunted down across the country by a very stubborn bounty hunter for tax evasion. Let this go, Arthur. I'm not going down easy, you know that." 

Arthur shakes his head, looks away. Eames sighs. He drops the files and goes over to Arthur.

"Let this go, dear," he says again, hand under his chin. "This is making everything so complicated. We could both be fucking happy." 

Arthur raises his chin. "I'm not the kind that gives up."

"Don't think of it as giving up, think of it as altering the goal. Switching the focus. Adapting to the situation. Think of it as getting something you  _want_  this time Arthur, dammed be the-"

Arthur is kissing him. Arthur has both hands on his hair and is really fucking kissing him, like he's been thinking about it all month, like he wants Eames just as much as Eames wants him. Eames puts both arms around his lithe waist and holds him tight.

"God, Eames," Arthur is saying between kisses, "you're so fucking infuriating, do you have any idea how much-" And Eames is shushing him, "I know, god Arthur, I know," and pushing him backwards until he hits the door behind him and Eames can kiss him quite how he wants to, no space between them at all.

"Eames," Arthur gasps and Eames tries to swallow down the voice in his head telling him this is stupid, he can't let himself get that close, but he can't and he needs to say something.

"Is this temporary dear? Are you going to arrest me in the morning?"

"I literally have no idea what you're talking about, to be honest." Arthur says, exhausted, like this is something obvious and Eames is somehow missing the point. "I haven't actually tried to arrest you since the first time. I haven't tried to arrest you since  _half-way_  through the first time we met, and that was a crazy long time ago. I have no clue what the big speech is for."

Eames blinks at him. "...you haven't."

"I haven't Eames, jesus. I kept tracking you because I wanted to know where you were, because I wanted to see you, because I was making sure you were safe, because you didn't seem to mind and half the times you left a clue for me to follow anyway, because you had fun covering up your tracks as much as I had fun with the chase. But that's  _it_. I do have a moral ground, you know. I help protect people by chasing down rapists and murders, stuff like this, but I know that's not the case for everyone who gets caught up in a crime. You're certainly not the first bounty I gave up on once I learned a bit more about the case."

"And you haven't been trying to arrest me since the first time."

" _Yes_ , god, haven't you  _noticed_? I just wanted to see you, asshole."

Eames can't stop grinning. 

"Oh my god."

"Shut up."

"Oh my god, dear, I promise to make it up to you."

"Still waiting for that."

"And to stop wasting our time."

"You better." Arthur says, and kisses him again. All in all, they're gonna be quite alright.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr at [dreaminghigher](https://dreaminghigher.tumblr.com/), hit me up


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